War Heroes
by 8ronwen
Summary: An AU Mass Effect fanfic in which Shepard and Garrus are part of The First Contact War. Humans and turians have met, and not on good terms. During a routine scouting mission Shepard finds her ship invaded by the alien species. In a matter of minutes her crew are dead or dying, the Normandy is on fire, and she is being captured by an alien with strange, blue face tattoos.
1. Chapter 1

The alien flared his mandibles and charged towards her with an angry roar. No time to duck. No time to roll. No time to even blink. Shepard could only watch wide eyed as unstoppable pain sped nearer with a hungry glint in it's eyes, complete with sharp talons and heavy armor. She thought about saying something, but what do you say at a time like that? Stop please? Do you beg them?

Absolutely not.

She braced her arms over her face during the breathless moment before contact was made, not dropping her gun – Commander Shepard never dropped her gun – and wincing as the creature dipped his spiked head and crashed into her chest. With an 'oof' her feet left the ground altogether and he bull rushed her to the back wall in what was truly a superb tackle. Head crunched against the ship, ears started ringing so hard it felt like her whole skull was vibrating, and the not so distant cries of death around her suddenly seemed so very far away. A mad thought of an alien football team crossed her mind, eleven horned monsters charging across a grassy field with a ball made of pig skin tucked under one arm. Perhaps it was the fact that it sounded so comical, or that it was such an inappropriate time to even be imagining such things – probably because she no doubt had a serious concussion - but a bubble of laughter left her lips even as the alien was pushing her to the ground and snarling inches from her nose in a language she did not understand.

Her unexpected mirth at least confused him for a few moments, mandible twitching as he stared down at the little human. In truth the entire situation was unbelievable. Mere minutes ago Shepard had been doing her rounds, joking with Ash in the CIC over the perkiness of a certain soldiers behind. Kaiden had wandered by and wanted to know what was so funny, and they'd refused to tell as he needled them for information. She had been avoiding one of his puppy dog faces when the power went dead; panic settled among the crew quickly, and flourished after Joker announced over the comms that they were under attack. After that things got blurry, and the commander mask was on. She'd ordered Kaiden to go turn the power back on – and he must have somehow succeeded as the lights were now casting shadows over strange, plated faces, though Kaiden had not returned - had rushed with Ashley and a few others to grab their weapons, charging down the stairs as Joker's shrill voice continued to sound above them. "Breach in the cargo hold. Prepare to be boarded. I repeat, prepare to be boarded."

Hackett had sent them on a simple routine mission. It was meant to be simple.

Adrenaline brought her out of her rabbit hole and gave her the energy to once again fight back. She realised that his two fingered hands were attempting to pull her assault rifle from her, and Shepard gripped onto it for dear life as they began to wrestle across the metal ground of the Normandy. Others fought around them, but she was lost in the moment as death stared at her right in the face and elbowed her in the ribs. When that did not work he head butted her with his rock like forehead, and her knee instinctively rose to crash between his legs in answer; but she did not find what she'd been looking for and barley caused the alien to flinch. A woman then? She sure as hell couldn't tell, and didn't find the time to ask. Instead, they rolled across the cargo bay until a dead body blocked their path – one of hers, Private Jenkins, he'd been itching for some action. Anger seethed through her bones, an anger she rarely brought to the surface, and she crashed the butt of her gun against his plated cheek. The aliens snarled furiously as his face was knocked to one side, spittle flying from his mouth and allowing her a perfect view of sharp little teeth, set in a neat row and looking ready to dig in to soft flesh.

"Get… ugh…off me!" She said through her own gritted, and unfairly blunt, teeth; smashing her gun like a hammer into his mouth several more time. Fangs shattered, one mandible crunched, and he leaned back far enough in protest that she was able to clamber free; scrambling backwards on her ass and lashing out with one last kick to the face before leaving him and re-joining the fray.

Now up on her feet and back into reality, one thing was obvious: they were losing.

Pools of red blood splashed the floor and mixed amongst blue to make a murky magenta. But the humans lying cold dead outnumbered that of the enemy. Humans. Her crew. Her friends. Guilt dragged her down (or maybe that was the now dying alien clutching to her leg?) and Shepard pulled herself into action before all was lost.

These people were under her protection, and if she didn't lead now then all their lives would be on her head instead of the majority.

"Retreat!" She said in an angry shout, leaping over Jenkins's body and shooting towards a snarling alien with blue face tattoos. "Get to the escape pods! Fall back! I said fall back!"

She herself stepped forward, covering her party as they bolted up the emergency ladder or crammed into the lift. Say one thing for Shepard, say that she's a good shot. Firing quick rounds of five with her assault rifle, she aimed for headshots every time, fully prepared to go down fighting if it meant a few survived – survived and sent a warning back to Earth.

Humans were not alone. And they were not safe.

More of the aliens diverted their attention to the lone solider with red hair and a temper to match, so much so that she had to duck behind the mako's wheels and grit her teeth as her baby was shot into scrap. Damn, she'd miss driving that thing.

Now free of gunfire, a few of the armoured monsters rushed after her crew, climbing the ladder seem as the lift was now gone. She shot out again, catching them in the back with a sickening cry of vengeance as two fell from the ladder and landed heavily by her feet. Blue blood splattered her face, and Shepard felt a brief wave of success before two long fingers wrapped around her neck and flung her backwards.

"Ugh!" They'd come round the other end of the mako while she wasn't looking, and she was pinned up to the wall yet again, only this time there would be no lucky escapes. The hand squeezed without mercy and any remaining air was pushed out of her neck. She coughed and spluttered and choked towards an angry face marked with blue markings, bullet wounds oozing from one cheek.

He clicked at her in a foreign language, biting off angry words that seemed to flow into a low growl at times. She tried to shoot him in the chest, but her gun was out of heat sinks, and he flung it away with a snap of his wrist when she kept attempting the impossible. That option now gone, she went for a more basic technique, and spat the blood from her mouth into his eyes, merely fuelling his anger and tightening his grip on her.

_May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead._

Vision was starting to turn fuzzy as the alien strangled her to death. Her red hair – usually bound into a ponytail so tight it gave her a headache – now fell in messy trickles over her face, leaving a bare patch over one eye that stared up at him furiously.

Squeeze, wheeze, squeeze. Wheeze, wheeze.

Heat washed over her face and she was briefly aware of black smoke licking the ceiling by one end of the cargo bay. Engines probably burned out, she thought. No doubt Joker was refusing to leave the helm, desperate to detach the Normandy from the alien ship so he could somehow save them all.

But that wasn't how her story would end. She was going to die before the war had even begun. She was going to die without any heroics, without a commendable service record. An orphan who made it off the streets and into the army, only to be one of the first causalities from a new alien race. Though she supposed that in itself was something, even if she didn't feel very proud all the same.

She noticed with a slight twitch of her lip the first sign of panic among the aliens, they ran from the fire that was quickly spreading and back towards their own ship. Except Blue here, he was still squeezing, still staring at her with a fiery rage of his own. Maybe that had been his brother she'd killed? Or maybe she was the reason his face was shot to hell? She didn't know.

She didn't care.

And then her world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus and his squad mates had been given one order before they boarded the ship:

Leave one alive.

He was trying to remember that objective as he currently choked the red headed one to death, relishing in the drool that dribbled from its pink mouth. He couldn't get over how soft they were. So easy to strangle. No armoured skin protected its throat, no plated shell made it harder for him to end the little thing's life. He simply had to hold its air ways shut and wait patiently.

These were the first new aliens he'd encountered. Though not the first contact the turians had made with them. There had been rumours of a new species opening any Mass Effect relays they could find without thinking of the consequences, or gaining permission from the Council. Then little over a week ago, Lieutenant Abrudas and his men had discovered the culprits – parked outside Relay 314 and attempting to open it. Garrus did not know all the details. He wasn't sure who had opened fire first, only that the aliens had fought, and were to be considered dangerous; if not very intelligent.

Thanks to all the stories, he had been expecting something more like the Krogan: big, tough, and hell bent on destruction. But these creatures resembled a fringeless Asari more than anything else. Though, saying that, one of them did fight like a krogan.

Say one thing for Garrus, say he was perceptive. This creature had caught his eye from the beginning; shooting his friends with an impressive accuracy and shouting out in their strange language. It ordered the others without hesitation, and they followed with equal confidence. But the fact that it clearly had a bit of authority was not what captured his full attention. It was when it begun to hit Tonn again and again with the butt of its gun, smashing his mandibles to a pulp even when the turian was clearly done fighting.

That had pricked his rage, and he had leapt to intercept the red headed alien as it unleashed havoc on the men; allowing her crew to flee while it continued the fight on its own. It had even landed a few well aimed shots at his cheek plate, which was now burning in pain. Though he paid it no mind. He was hell bent on revenge.

It snorted and wheezed against his palms. Garrus noted how much the aliens seemed to leak. Literally from every hole on its face. Liquid was pooled in its' eyes, dribbled down its mouth and bubbled out of its little nose all at once. Eventually it went limp against the wall and closed its eyes, yet he continued to squeeze.

"Garrus, put it down." Ira insisted, the two of them didn't get along at the best of times, but she seemed honestly concerned. Crouching over Vestre, one hand held his bleeding mandible to his face as she looked on with a frown.

Garrus ignored her and continued. He wasn't finished, and one of his father's favourite mottos echoed in his mind.

_Do things right or don't do them at all._

"Garrus." Ira said again, pleading.

"No! Did you see what it did? Did you see what it did to Vestre?"

"And we can save him. But only if you help me."

He let the alien fall in a graceless heap. She was right; and spirits willing, it was already dead. He didn't know.

He didn't care.

It was a side of Garrus few people saw. He was usually polite, calm, and calculating. Maybe not the perfectly obedient turian his cultural norms demanded, but somewhere close. It was only in a fight when he turned ruthless, and only when his temper was tested that he lost all control.

He turned to Ira, who had started to drag Vestre towards the docking tunnel by his arms. The alien's ship was a lost cause, and he could hear the rage of the engine fire. Clearly this new species were not very advanced. He doubted the ones who had fled would survive.

Good. He had suddenly developed a very grim opinion of these strange, squishy aliens.

Garrus reached out to help Ira with her heavy load, but she simply clicked her mandibles impatiently and nodded towards the alien.

"I meant take it to the ship, I've got him."

"Are you insane?! It's a monster."

"You remember our orders. The commander wants one alive."

Of course, a good turian followed their orders to the letter, but he didn't feel like being a good turian, and he glanced back to the thing with a low growl. It was still on the floor, folded over on one side and seemingly lifeless. But Garrus could see the gentle rise and fall of its chest, and his visor flashed a heart rate with a blink of his eye. It was breathing. It was alive.

Crap.

Maybe he was a good turian after all. Or maybe he just wanted to stay on Ira's good side for the next time they had a tie breaker. But Garrus stepped forward and flung the alien over one shoulder despite his qualms, before following her back to their own ship.

It was a lot lighter than he'd expected, and appeared to be soft all over. Its head banged against his lower back, dangling hands precariously close to his waist. Even unconscious it still managed to be annoying, and he jostled it roughly into a higher position.

They were the last group to return, and the air lock had barely closed before the engines purred to life and they were leaving the human vessel to float dead in space.

He was not sure what to do with it. The cruiser was big, even for a turian ship, yet he felt like he had few options when it came to prison cells.

Ira dragged Vestre towards the medbay – a few others stepping forward to help once her struggle was noticed – and no doubt the alien needed medical attention too, he was just unwilling to provide it.

Maybe he could dump it in the garbage disposal and let it get sucked out into space.

"Vakarian," He was saved from making the decision himself with the arrival of Commander Fidus, who looked at his cargo with a gloomy frown. Garrus couldn't tell if he was pleased with him or angry. It was always impossible to tell until the turian was either giving you a pat on the back or sending you down to clean the toilets. "Comm room. Now."

"Yes, sir." He followed suit, passing through the already busy CIC. Most of the crew seemed unscathed and were back to their stations, working with a strict efficiency that the turian fleet was famous for. Few even noticed the creature on his shoulder, though one or two flashed heated glares in its direction. Garrus did not doubt that the medbay was seeing its fair share of patients despite the calm atmosphere up near the galaxy map. He needed patching up himself, face oozing blood thanks to the violent alien and its surprisingly good aim.

Apart from that he felt fine, though talking was proving painful. Which was why Garrus wasn't pleased to find himself in a meeting.

"Put it on the table." Fidus said as the doors swooshed open to a well sized room, its only furniture being the large silver table gracing the middle of the floor.

"Ah. Garrus is it? Good work." He had failed to notice the turian lurking in the far corner, stomach dropping as he locked eye contact with the spectre. He had been avoiding Saren since he joined them a week ago – as had the rest of the crew. It was a natural reaction. Even if he was a turian, spectres were bad news, and there was something particular about this one that rubbed Garrus the wrong way.

"I – er, thank you, sir."

Saren dipped his chin in a curt nod, apparently done with small talk. Grey eyes, cold and scathing, trailed over the alien now stretched out on the table. Garrus followed his lead, and noted how the skin was turning a blotchy purple around its neck. He guessed it was a defence mechanism of sorts, but as far as those go it seemed pretty useless. The rest of the skin had turned as white as bleached bone, and glistened under a layer of sweat.

"Whats wrong with its' fringe?" Commander Fidus said. He reached out to curl some of the red strings around his talon with a delicacy that bellied his great size.

"We don't know… yet. The first one we captured died prematurely." Saren shrugged, "they possess no protection to Palaven's solar radiation, we're sure of that. I'm please we now have a spare."

"Spare?" Garrus asked before he remembered he was too low in the ranking to be asking questions.

"Indeed," said Commander Fidus. "Saren dragged another through shortly after we made contact. However, we doubt it will survive the night." He was still trailing the flimsy fringe through his fingers, glaring down intensely and unable to just let go and step back. It weirdly annoyed Garrus, and he was surprised to be wishing his commanding officer would just leave the damn thing alone. "Saren had to use… extreme measures to bring the other aboard." Fidus flared his mandibles over the fact.

"Yes, despite their appearance it seems the new species are quite capable of defending themselves. What about this one, Garrus, did it put up a fight?" If he was honest, Saren made him a little nervous, and he had to force himself to maintain eye contact with the smug turian.

"Yes. A little, sir."

"Violent little creatures, aren't they?" Fidus mused, finally placing his hands behind his back and straightening to his full height. "Yes, we'll probably need the spare. But I don't want them put together. Where _is_ the other alien, Saren?"

"I locked it in one of the storage cupboards, near the medbay. Your doctors are doing everything they can, of course."

"Of course." Fidus agreed.

"Of course." Garrus followed, because he had to, with only the slightest tone of bitterness lining his voice.

"This one looks like it could do with a doctor too. Hmm. Lock it in another storage unit, Garrus. Make sure everything inside is sealed first."

"Yes sir." He saluted then moved to pick the creature up once more, jostling it over his shoulder with little effort. Yet he found his feet unwilling to budge. Definitely his father's son, Garrus had a hunger for more information, and turned back to the men with a nervous clear of his throat.

He really was a very bad turian.

"Forgive the query, sir, but why are we keeping two alive?"

Saren's mandibles locked stiffly, Fidus chuckled.

"Well, forgive me for answering a question with another question, but do you consider our best weapon against a new enemy?"

Garrus mulled over that for a while, thinking about his father in C-Sec. A successful investigator, the man was always asking questions, and constantly persevering.

"Knowledge, sir?" He said finally, shoulders stiff as realization slowly dawned on him.

"Exactly! Knowledge. Information. The more we know about this new species, the easier it will be to crush them. Don't interpret our kindness as a mercy, Garrus. These prisoners are to be treated well, but that's exactly what they are: prisoners."

Saren scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "More like experiments, once the salarian gets here."

"Salarian?"

"Dr Solus, brilliant mind. Or so I'm told. He was studying the first alien we captured back on Palaven. Before the… ah… radiation incident." Fidus shrugged. "If you must know, Garrus, we're to wait here in case any more of these creatures return and attempt to open the relay. Solus will be joining us here in a week or so to continue his studies with the new subjects."

"Hurrrr….nnngh…" as if on cue, the alien groaned, and the three of them jerked in surprise. Garrus had almost forgotten it was there, and finally decided the questions could wait.

"By the medbay, Garrus." Fidus reminded him, fringe plates resting in a gentle expression.

"Yes, sir. Going, sir."

"Oh, and you'll be taking first shift."

He knew he'd already pushed them too far, but he couldn't help himself, and another question bubbled forth despite his hesitation.

"First… shift, sir?"

"Yes. Someone has to guard it. The entire crew wants it dead, and I understand why enough to not trust everyone to control themselves. You and Private Ira will rotate guard duty."

His expression drooped, shoulders slumping.

This not only meant that it would be impossible for him and Ira to have any free time together, but also that he would now be spending his every waking hours guarding the very thing he wanted dead.

Guard duty. Cleaning toilets no longer seemed so terrible.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been asleep for three hours, and Garrus was starting to worry. After leaving the meeting he had dumped the alien on the storage room floor, ensured every crate was secured and safe from wandering fingers, then shut the door and locked it behind him. Every now and then he would check in the room by connecting to the camera via his omni tool, only to see that nothing had changed, and the alien was still.

Turians only needed up to four hours sleep, and most of the crew took those separately on rotating shifts. Three hours in one sitting seemed like an excessive amount; and the fact that he would be held personally responsible if it died throbbed in the back of his mind.

He was considering shaking it awake when the long-suffering Dr. Curae wandered down the corridor to greet him. At 6"3 he was short for a turian, with pale yellow face markings and a curiously blank expression. He had short head spikes, a stiff, awkward posture, and was covered from the elbows down in red blood.

"The other Taylors in here?" He said, mandibles twitching.

"Err, yeah. Taylors?"

"I've been reading the Palaven reports. Apparently the one there referred to itself as a Taylor."

Garrus nodded and led the way inside. The Taylor was still sprayed out on the floor, much to the doctor's horror. Curae reprimanded him severely for his "heartless attitude," and then forced Garrus to go collect a medical cot while he began his examination.

That in itself proved to be a tedious task. The medbay was on the other side of the deck, and so he was forced to pass the eating area. Nearly the entire ground team was seated around silver tables, laughing and joking about the successful mission as they ate. Ira spotted him stomping past, and stretched one arm out in a friendly beckon.

"Garrus, come join us." She called, indicating to the empty seat next to her.

He shook his head and continued marching without a glance in her direction. Ira could forgive him later, and Garrus was distracted by the battle raging on in his conscience.

Seeing the doctor treat the enemy with some dignity was making him think twice about his own actions. He still believe it had deserved his harsh retaliation during the attack; but now, maybe, he should adopt a gentler approach. It couldn't exactly fight back when it was dying. Garrus imagined how he'd feel if a squad of strange creatures suddenly boarded the ship and shot anyone insight. If he was brutally honest with himself, it hadn't stooped to anything he wouldn't do for his own crewmates.

Entering the medbay, he was surprised to discover it was not as busy as he'd imagined. Only three of the eight cots were in use, and two of those occupants were sitting up and chatting merrily about their last shore leave. Vestre, however, was motionless. Garrus went to stand by his bed with a gulp.

Only one eye was visible, the rest of Vestre's face was covered in bandages. No doubt to keep it held together. His visor read the turian's life signs, and Garrus was happy to see almost healthy readings. He'd live, though with a few scars.

"I'll come visit you later, Vestre." He promised before getting back to the job at hand, turning away reluctantly. With some difficultly, he wrestled a flimsy cot down the corridor. Dragging it proved easier than actual lifting, and the legs scraped loudly against the floor as he passed the eating turians once again. That earned him more than a few odd looks, and he glanced towards a frowning Ira before disappearing behind the wall and back to the storage room, pride successfully stung. Frustration made his actions a little too rough, and he struggled to make the damn thing fit; forced to pivot the bed on its side to even get it through the doorway. Dr. Curae regarded him impassively, and said nothing as Garrus cradled the Taylor in his arms and settled it on the bed. He even plumped up the pillows, but was met with nothing but a flinty silence in return. Garrus cleared his throat. "So, doc, whats wrong with it?"

"Her." Curae said, beginning to strip the Taylor of its bloody clothes.

"It's a she?" He averted his eyes to the ceiling as Curae exposed her waist.

"I believe so. Apart from the more er obvious signs, Dr. Solus reported that a certain swelling on the chest indicates the subject is female," he said waving his hands vaguely over her, "he suspects it has something to do with birthing. What I can't imagine. Here, hold this."

He took the bloody rags and watched as Curae poked and prodded, vibrating his mandibles in little 'hmms' and 'ahhs'. After a few minutes of this Garrus was sure the doctor was making it up as he went, and felt an impatient rumble of a growl travel up his chest and ruffle his own mandibles.

"Hm, yes, very interesting."

"What is?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Notice the dots on her cheeks? I was wondering if they were tribal markings, or perhaps an indication to rank."

"I think they're just part of its skin."

"Her skin."

He shrugged, regarding the Taylor darkly. "Why is it still asleep?"

Corae shuffled and shrugged, currently bending her arm and prodding the soft skin underneath. "I er, I'm not sure. It's possible they just sleep for longer periods than we do. Or, more likely, that you really did a number on the little thing when you were choking her."

Garrus turned his head. Ira could never keep her damn mouth shut. "Well, what are you going to do then?"

"Usually I'd slather on some medi-gel. But we don't know if the Taylors are allergic to our medicine. I propose we just let her get some rest and wait."

"You can't be serious, doc." That seemed like the opposite of what they should do, and Garrus felt the prickle of annoyance growing louder, as well as his headache. "Is that what you did with the other one? You're just waiting for the real expert to get here while you watch them die?"

Curae locked his mandibles and – if it was possible – stood even stiffer. "That Taylor is in _much _poorer condition, so I treated him. I had to take risks. But we can't do that with both in case the medicine ends up deadly. I made a tough call, Vakarian, and now we have to stick with it."

"Understood, doc." Though he still disagreed. They could at least help a little, give her an air mask or something. Doing anything seemed better than doing nothing. She was the control group in some mad experiment, and his principles raged over the fact.

Conversation butchered, the turians continued to examine the Taylor in a stony silence. After bending each extra finger and turning the arms, Curae held her by the foot and brought her leg up, and up, and up. Garrus winced and sucked through his teeth as he slowly brought the Taylor's foot above her head without even hearing a crack.

"That can't be right." Curae said, muttering under his breath.

"Spirits, that's disgusting. Do they even have bones?!"

"Like I said," he gently brought the leg back down and wiped his hands on his medical robes, "best to leave her alone and let her rest until Dr. Solus arrives. I'll check again on her tomorrow."

"Okay, Doc."

Curae returned to the medbay and Garrus back to his station outside the door. It would be another four hours before Ira arrived to relieve him of his duties. That was sure to be enough time for the Taylor to finish sleeping, and he kept his omni-tool on to wait for the inevitable.

* * *

><p>Ira would be arriving in five minutes, and the Taylor was still asleep.<p>

Garrus paced outside the door. Eight hours. She had been asleep for eight hours. That couldn't be good, and he faintly considered rushing for the doctor; until he realized Curae wouldn't do anything; except maybe fondle her flexible limbs a bit more, which was nothing short of sickening.

No, he'd just have to wake her up by force, make sure she was okay, then go back to guarding the door until Ira arrived. Maybe he could even give her some of his medi-gel. The asari weren't allergic to it, and she resembled them more than anything. He was sure it would be fine. As long as she didn't die on his watch.

Decision made, he barged into the room with determination set in his mandibles. Garrus did not hesitate under the fear he'd change his mind, and strode to the bed in two long strides. He clutched onto her bony shoulders and shook, gently at first, with a little more force as he got increasingly desperate.

"Wake up. C'mon, just wake up."

* * *

><p>"Mass Effect relay in sight." Joker's voice announced throughout the ship. Shepard strode out of the elevator and through the CIC, nodding as Private Jenkins saluted.<p>

"Relay in range, entering transmission sequence."

This would be the first time the Normandy went through a Mass Effect relay, and she noted with a smirk that Joker's voice sounded a little higher than usual.

"We're connected, calculating transmit mass and destination."

It was understandable. She herself was a little nervous. And not just over the new ship. They had been given one objective before leaving Earth:

Find the aliens.

It had been eight years since humanity had discovered Pluto's relay, and they had been expanding their reach to the galaxy ever since. A mere hundred years ago, living on Mars had been just a pipe dream, yet – with the discovery of the mass effect relays – humans now stretched past the Sol system and into new territory. The rulers of the galaxy. Or so they believed, until survivors had returned to Earth in a half broken ship a week ago, reporting wild stories of an alien attack.

With the Normandy's stealth systems, she had the best chance at taking the new species by surprise. Hackett had ordered them to engage fire as soon as contact was made. Anderson had disagreed and urged Shepard to find a peaceful solution. She still wasn't sure which option she would go for.

"Entering relay in three, two, one."

Her niggling thoughts were silenced as the ship was rocketed forward in a blue blur, and she held the back of Joker's seat with one hand while looking out the cockpit windows, smile widening. In a matter of seconds they finished the jump and slowed down in a completely different solar system, all in the space of mere minutes.

"Good job, Joker."

"Good job?!"

Oh no. Shepard mentally kicked herself as the pilot twisted his neck to glare up at her, resisting the urge to wince.

"I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead _perfectly, _in a new ship,on my first try. _First try._ That's not good, that's amazing. Incredible. Fantastic!"

"Astounding?" She supplied with a smirk, noting his struggle to come up with another adjective.

"What? Yeah. Yeah! Astounding."

"Shocking?" Kaiden joined in, sat next to Joker and regarding them both with a fond amusement.

"Ehhh. Not so much shocking. I mean, _of course_ I could do it. More like… like…"

"Unbelievable." Shepard said, Kaiden laughed before continuing their game.

"Preposterous."

"Implausible."

"Farfetched."

"No! None of those things. It's just… it's just _good_, okay?! Jeez." Joker huffed and turned back to his controls, flicking through orange screens until he found the one he wanted.

Shepard grinned. "I should go." She turned to continue her rounds, she still had to visit Ashley and James.

Suddenly the ship rocked like a seesaw, and she stumbled forward with a grunt.

"What was that?"

The boys were staring at her as if she'd sprouted horns, foreheads creasing into slow, worried, frowns.

"What was what, Commander?" Kaiden murmured, just as the ship rocked again, harder this time.

"That! Didn't you feel it?"

"No. Should I call up Doctor Chakwas?"

The Normandy was now lurching wildly from side to side like a bucking bronco. She was jostled to the point of feeling sick, and Shepard had fallen asleep in the mako before. Another rock sent her to her knees, then flung her backwards to crash onto her head. Compared to her, the others seemed fine, and stood with perfect balance, reaching out to her yet too far to touch.

"Commander, are you okay?"

"Shepard?"

Shepard_._

_Shepard…_

* * *

><p>The first thing Shepard noticed was the seven foot tall velociraptor man shaking her by the shoulders.<p>

Actually, that was the only thing she noticed, but it seemed the most pressing in any case. She recognized the blue face markings almost instantly, and her memories on the Normandy rushed back to her so fast it stung her head – or maybe that was the alien shaking her.

"Get off me!" She said, lashing out wildly with one fist. She landed a solid punch against his jaw, then kicked out and rolled onto her feet. The alien was taken by surprise, and he jumped back clutching his face with one hand. He spoke to her in that strange, lilting language, but she could not understand the low growls and clicky purrs, and merely sneered in return.

Backing away, Shepard was soon trapped against a pile of large crates. In fact, similar piles filled up the majority of the small room, with no windows and only one door – that the alien was currently blocking. He held his hands up and murmured more soft grumblings, but it did little and nothing to reassure her, especially with the flanging effect each rumble possessed. Shepard looked around wildly for an exit, and then found her salvation on the roof.

An air vent.

"Hey, listen dinosaur man, don't take another step," she side stepped, slipping in between two piles of crates despite the fact this made her even more trapped. "Don't come any closer."

He did, inching around the bed slowly. In the end it was his hesitation that saved her, and she suddenly pushed at one pile of crates with all her might. He realised what she was doing a second too late, and her last glimpse of the alien was the widening of his eyes before the boxes fell forward and he disappeared underneath them.

Not one for wasting time, she climbed up the stack still standing, and kicked open the vent before clambering into the air ducts and beginning her escape.

* * *

><p>Garrus had been trying to calm the Taylor down, cooing silky promises that he wouldn't hurt her, while she retreated into the shadows of the little room.<p>

He hadn't even considered the possibility of her escaping. He was blocking the only exit, and the door was locked even if she did get past him. He had no reason to worry.

Or so he'd thought.

He wasn't sure how, but Garrus found his legs trapped beneath, oh, four or five heavy boxes, watching in horror as two bendy legs disappeared into the air ducts and out of sight.

He had successfully woken her up; and immediately lost her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was hot on the garden world. Too warm for armour, yet Ashley wore it anyway, sweating under her pink protection as the others continued to argue.

"We should have waited in the escape pod. Its releases an SOS."

"Oh yeah, and who's around to read the fucking signal? Aliens. I'm not waiting for one of those spikey bastards to pick me up."

"I'm telling ya' we need to get back to the escape pod."

"No we need to look for the others."

"What others? The others are dead!"

She turned back to the group with a low whine. James and Jack were close enough to butt heads, snapping at each other while Dr. Chakwas looked on wearily, happy for the rest if not for the company.

Ashley had always known Shepard's job was hard, but she hadn't realised how difficult they made it for her. The crew was slowly falling apart without someone to lead them, and she didn't feel up to being the replacement. Shepard always knew what to say, she had a gift for finding the exact words needed to defuse a fight or earn someone's trust. Whilst Ashley tended to have foot in mouth disease, yet she spoke up anyway, just because she didn't really have a choice.

"Enough! Fighting each other _isn't_ going to help. We've just got to find some water and figure out what to do from there. One step at a time. Got it?"

They nodded, though Jack was rolling her eyes.

"Whatever, Princess."

She ignored her and walked on. They had been trekking through the jungle for the best part of the morning. Her legs ached, and her feet throbbed from blisters. To make matters worse, Ashley soon found herself covered in bites. Typical. The one thing this planet had in common with Earth, and it was blood sucking bugs.

* * *

><p>"Maybe Joker managed to escape." James broke the silence a few hours later, one arm around the doctor as he half carried her up the hill. "He didn't abandon ship. He could have landed somewhere, he might find us."<p>

"Pfft. That crazy bastards long gone. Half the engine was on fire when we left. No way he made it." Jack said, successfully killing any hope the others had held. Though she didn't notice, scratching at her tattoos as the bugs continued their feast. Ashley had joined the army because it was her family's calling. Jack had joined because it was either serve with Shepard or go back to prison. They had nothing in common, and didn't get along. Yet faith had unfairly stuck them with each other.

At least she had James. She was thankful for that.

The escape pod had landed on the nearest hospitable planet two days ago, but they hadn't felt lucky about it. They'd spent the first day watching the sky, waiting – willing – for another escape pod to come into view like a shooting star. But there had been none. They were alone.

Ashley assumed that the alliance would send out a search party when they didn't return. They could safely rely on Anderson's loyalty to Shepard for that. However it would take them a few days to realize something was up, another two to gather a crew and send off a ship. Then three more to reach the end of the Sol system and get through the relay. Then they'd actually have to start searching. So they just had to survive on the planet for two weeks, maybe three if they were unlucky.

Easy, if they found water. If not, well, she didn't like to think about it.

Climbing the hill was slow, tedious work; and the sun was beginning its decent when they finally made it to the top. Chakwas and Jack immediately sat down, taking heavy breaths and leaning against the trees. Even James looked worn out, and his shirt clung to his sweaty chest as he stood next to Ashley; inspecting the view with a sneer.

"Maybe James is right, we probably should head back to the escape pod." She said after a moment's silence.

"Thank you!"

"Are you shitting me?" Jack scoffed and jumped to her feet, hands definitely beginning to glow a faint blue. "I didn't walk up this fucking hill just to go back down again!" She flung her arms in the air, regarding them with bitter resentment. "Besides, there's no more water in the pod. And there's no way doc can get back down."

"S-Speak for yourself," Chakwas managed to mutter. But it was true. The doctor didn't look well. Her skin was covered in a cold sweat, usually precise hands now shook, and her eyes were shallow, lined with dark, baggy skin.

"Jack, the whole point of making it to the top was to look for water. Well, we're here. And I can't see any. Can you?" Ashley indicated to the view behind her. It was a sea of green. The jungle stretched on for miles, for all they knew it covered the entire planet. "Whats the point in wasting energy if there's nothing we can do? Let's just wait at the pod for help. The alliance will rescue us."

In three weeks.

"We won't last that long!" Jack tended to shout what everyone else was too afraid to even mutter aloud, and the uneasy silence was the only answer she received.

Ashley felt like hitting her. "Well what do you suggest? We just run around lost until we all drop down dead? There's nothing we can do, Jack."

"Fuck you, Barbie! I never took you for a quitter."

"Quitter?! Say that again, you freak!"

"Guys!" James came in between them, pushing them away from each other before it ended in blows. "Calm down. Silencio. We _can _find water." He slapped a bug against his neck, "theres wildlife. They must be drinking something."

"Yeah, our blood you dipshit." Jack said.

"Maybe we can get water from the trees?" Ashley suggested thinly, doubting herself. What sort of leader was she if James had to be the voice of reason?

"Do you hear that?" Chakwas said, voice barely a whisper.

"How are we meant to get it out of the fucking trees?"

"Maybe you could use your biotics to knock one down, and then James could –"

"Ha! Are you kidding me? I can't even keep the mosquitoes off me. No water, no rest, no food equals no biotics, Princess."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

They began to fight again, and this time James let them as he watched with his arms crossed, too tired to intervene a second time. Chakwas raised her arm in a poor attempt to grab their attention, but it was little use when she couldn't even stand.

"I'm serious. I can hear – stop. Stop it." The doctor didn't raise her voice, but she wasn't pleading, and her tone screamed command. All three heads swiveled in her direction on the floor, though Jack didn't let go of Ashley's hair. "You're soldiers. Act like it. What would Shepard make of you all right now? She'd be furious." Ashley felt her face heat up with shame as they were scolded like children, though Jack merely turned away. "Now listen. I can hear something."

She frowned. "Are you sure, doc? I can't hear – " Ashley paused. No, now that she concentrated, she could definitely hear something. It almost sounded like an engine, but that was impossible. Unless the aliens had found them after all. "We've got to hide. Move it! Go, go, go!"

They jumped to action quickly, James scooped the doctor up and they began to run back down the hill without another protest. But Ashley's weary legs were struggling to keep her up any longer, let alone sprint, and she tripped more often than not. Eventually, Jack grabbed her by the arm, and they began to help each other through the undergrowth whilst James struggled with the doctor a little ahead.

But the noise only grew louder, and now it wasn't just a little hum in the back of her head, but a great roar that hurt her ears and made her blood chill. Wheels were crashing through the jungle, trampling anything in their way. They were catching up.

"Keep going! I'll hold them off." She skidded to a stop and drew her assault rifle. Ashley guessed that the others would have followed without question had she been a real leader, but as it was they stopped, looking back at her as if she was mad. Jack opened her mouth, no doubt to call her an idiot, but she cut her off and pushed her away. "MOVE!"

Chakwas face was streaked with tears, and James nodded before reluctantly turning and continuing to run. Jack stayed a moment longer, teeth gritted.

"Ah shit, princess. You better catch up! Fuck me, just catch up!" And with that she left, chasing after James and Chakwas.

Ashley watched until they disappeared under the bank, then turned back up the hill. She wanted to cry, but she was Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, and she never cried. Instead she stood proud and tall, aiming with the fierce determination the whole family possessed.

It faintly occurred to her that bullets would be useless against whatever metal tank the aliens were hiding in. But if she could delay them for even a few moments, just for the others to get away, then it was worth it.

She pictured her sisters, back on Earth with their husbands. Probably angry she hadn't called them in days with her latest gossip.

Nearby birds fled from their nests, alien calls angry to have been disturbed.

She thought about her father, and her Grandfather. They'd be proud. No doubt boring anyone who would listen about her bravery.

Pebbles rolled down the hill, first the flash of metal, then the tank appeared on top of the bank.

Shepard too. She would have forced her to keep running and guarded them herself, the way she had on the Normandy. The only difference was, Shepard would have caught them up, looking bruised and battered and smug all at once. Shepard would have gotten them out of this. She would have led.

The machine was nearly upon her now, and looked as if it was slowing down. Big mistake. Ashley popped her heat sink, aimed, and managed a small, bittersweet, smirk.

"This is for Shepard you sons of bitches."

* * *

><p>Night had fallen and the air had turned cold, yet Chakwas's skin was hot to the touch. James didn't know what to do. They'd made it back to the escape pod hours ago, and neither the aliens nor Ashley had caught up. Jack was pacing outside, swearing under her breath and angrier than usual.<p>

James held no false hope, he knew she was dead. Best not to think about it, this wasn't the first time he'd lost his entire squad. He had to concentrate on the ones who were breathing.

"Doc, ya' gotta help me out here." He hunted through the pod's medical supplies, but they were few and little compared to what the Normandy had. "What do you need? Theres some bandages, a funny looking pot of something, err, some needles, a – "

"A shot." She said, voice a wheezy whisper.

"Right. Got ya' covered." He picked up one of the needles and held it in her line of vision. "A shot of what, doc? Morphine? I think theres some –"

"No." She smiled faintly, "an allergy shot. All those mosquito things. I must – I must be allergic to the bites."

"Right, right. Allergy shot. I don't – there's not."

"It's on the Normandy. Best to just rest. It was always so hard to get you all to just rest." Her eyes were growing heavy, but her smile remained. He wasn't sure if she was delirious, dying, or both.

"The noise is back!" Jack shouted from outside, bashing against the pod. Chakwas wasn't going anywhere though, and James felt despair creep up on him as she shut her eyes and left him to lead.

"Doc, stay with me. We've got to move again. C'mon," he flung the medical supplies over his shoulder and picked her up. She was a dead weight in his arms.

"It's nearly here!"

"I hear you, Jack. Now shut up and help!" Thanks to the way they had landed, the door to the pod faced the sky, and climbing out was a struggle. Jack had to climb up and help pull Chakwas out whilst he pushed. By the time they reached the ground they could see the machines headlights, two glowing orbs signalling their doom.

"We're too late." Jack whispered, drained of her rage and left looking hopeless. James growled and looked around. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. They stood side by side, ready to fight, ready to die.

The mako took out two trees before it crashed into the clearing and skidded to a stop with a squeal. James couldn't quite believe it, and clutched onto Chakwas tightly as the door whooshed open and two smiling faces greeted them from within.

"Finally! You know how long I've been looking for you guys?" Joker was in the driver's seat looking smug, Ashley leapt down to help carry the doctor.

"You bastards!" Jack said, not sure whether she should be angry or overjoyed. James knew which he felt.

"Oh senior, I could kiss you!"

"Save it. The Normandys about two hours away. Gabby and Kennith are working on the engine while I've been looking for your sorry asses."

They climbed in, happy to see each other and talking all at once. Ashley explained how she had nearly run out of bullets until she'd finally realised it was the mako. Then she'd thought she was hallucinating and shot anyway, much to Joker's disapproval. James realized then that he hadn't been handling Ashley's death well at all, and he embraced her without warning before the door was even closed, squeezing tightly and burying his head into the crook of her neck.

"Oof! Nice to see you too, Vega. Wait. Are you crying?"

"No. Just something in my eye is all. Damn bugs." He let go and took his seat next to the doctor. Like always with the mako, it was a bumpy ride. But – he thought with just a little bit of amusement – not as jerky as when Shepard was behind the wheel.

"So whats the plan? Fix the ship and head back to Earth?" He asked Joker.

"Sounds good. But first, we've got to rescue the commander."

James, Ashley, and Jack shared a glance. None of them relished the idea of seeing the aliens again. It would be dangerous, a suicide mission. But this was Shepard they were talking about. She was the reason they'd escaped in the first place. The commander that had done it for them without a seconds hesitation, and so it was with a gentle nod from all three that their decision was made.

They would rescue Shepard.

* * *

><p>(Don't worry. Everyone's favorite Shakarian are back in the next chapter, promise. =] )<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

It was physically impossible for Garrus to crawl into the air ducts and follow, and so he was stuck rushing down the corridor, hearing the occasional clank up above; and trying desperately to figure out which exit she would come across first.

The air ducts ran throughout the entire ship, but some tunnels were closed off to save on oxygen supplies. The next vent was probably in the private bunks. He imagined the Taylor dropping down onto some poor, sleeping cadet. He imagined their reaction when it happened.

Crap.

He nearly crashed straight into Ira around the corridor, who widened her eyes before giving him a scathing glare.

"Hey stranger," she said. "I came to give you a break. Why aren't you outside the door? We're not suppose – "

"SHHHH!"

He clamped his hand over her mouth, pinning her rumbling mandibles to her face as he listened with baited breath. The Taylor had come to a junction up above, and he could practically hear her thinking, deciding which route to take.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

She turned left towards the armoury, and he headed that way at a jog.

"What are you doing?!" Ira followed, clearly growing more irritable by the moment. She pulled at his arm and scoffed when Garrus shrugged her off, glaring at his head spikes. "You better tell me what's going on right now, Vakarian, or I swear to spirits –"

"She's loose." He snapped, still staring at the ceiling as they moved.

"You let it escape?!" This time Ira succeeded in dragging him to a stop, and Garrus half turned with an impatient glare of his own, the Taylor scrambling ahead.

"She." He corrected.

"How could you let it get out?! It was unconscious."

"She. And I underestimated her, she's resourceful, okay?!"

"That's your great excuse?!"

They marched on, catching up to the clattering up above quickly. Behind Garrus, Ira drew her pistol. "I was just making sure she wasn't dead. Then the next thing I know I'm buried under ten heavy crates and she's climbing into the vents."

"Ugh. Spirits."

Without warning, Ira fired three quick shots at the metal duct above them. Garrus pulled her arm back before she managed the fourth, snarling loudly.

"What are you doing?!"

"Herding it away from the armoury. Don't worry I'll try not to hit it… much."

* * *

><p>Three bullets whizzed past her legs, and Shepard curled into a tight ball to avoid them. Light seeped into the holes now left in the metal, and she was almost grateful for the cold air that brushed in with it. She was hot, lost, and couldn't see clearly in the dark.<p>

The last thing she remembered was the blue face alien hissing at her face, and so she didn't know much. Apart from the fact that she was on the alien's ship, she was – unfortunately – very naked, and the bastards weren't messing around.

Well fine, she'd make them work for it.

With a distasteful curl of her lip she picked up the pace. All pretence of being quiet was gone now that she knew they weren't above shooting her out, and Shepard crawled through the air ducts as fast as possible before she got a bullet in the leg. She didn't have much of a plan. In fact it was more of a vague to do list: lose the aliens, find her crew, and get the hell out of here. Granted that sounded easier said than done.

The tunnels broke off once more, and she turned to go left, but two more shots in front herded her right. Oh they were smart, and she growled like a caged animal as she was forced in a direction they deemed more suitable. It was time for plan B. It was time to fight.

* * *

><p>Ira was far too liberal with her pistol in his humble opinion, and Garrus winced with every shot. Not only did she risk alerting the entire crew to their presence, but the Taylor's safety was also in danger, and he felt oddly protective when the dumb thing was trapped up there helpless.<p>

"Ira, stop. How are we ever going to reason with her if you keep shooting?" He snapped.

"Who said anything about reasoning? I'm leading it into another storage unit." She shot again, sending the Taylor right instead of left, away from the barracks.

"Her." He corrected with a cold glare, following. "And what if someone hears you? Or, maybe, notices all the _holes _you're putting in the ship!?"

"I'll respectfully explain how I was simply fixing _your_ mess." She paused at a junction, waiting for the Taylor to move first. When it didn't bother Ira simply shot it into action, five more bullets that forced it right.

If Garrus didn't know any better, he'd think Ira was enjoying herself.

* * *

><p>Shepard was sick of being driven like some lost sheep, dodging bullets and scrambling down the air ducts for dear life. She was an N7, she was better than this, and as soon as she came to her first vent opening she was kicking through and down to the ground with the intention to fight.<p>

Only to find she was in another storage room.

"SON OF A - !"

She rushed to the door, but it didn't have any kind of handle and was clearly automatic… somehow. She could hear the alien's just outside, and it sounded like they were arguing. Well, they'd have to come in and collect her sooner or later, and she took cover by one side with a hungry glint in her eyes.

Judging by the strange voices, she counted two. Not the best of odds, considering the genetic advantages these bastards possessed already, but she'd handled worse, and fear did not creep up on Commander Shepard today.

The door swooshed open, a familiar blue face wandered in –

She lashed out with a cry, grabbing him by his head spikes and pulling him down to meet her knee. One, two, three. He snarled and grabbed her waist, lifting her from her feet and attempting to throw her over his shoulder. An awkward wrestle broke out between the two of them, and Shepard was wiggling past him and out the door when the other alien finally stepped in.

Here was her herder. This one was shorter, with no head spikes for her to grab. Her eyes were cold, and held no pity as she shot Shepard in the thigh.

"Argh!" With no shields or armour, she fell forward clutching at her bloody leg. Shepard was surprised to find Blue Face being the one to offer his support and catch her, wrapping one arm around her waist and picking her up gently.

Great. There went her escape.

The two began arguing with each other in those lilting purrs while she clutched onto a plated shoulder for support. She had the funny suspicion that Blue Face was on the side of 'hey why don't we try not to shoot the human?' This was astonishing, considering her neck still burned from his earlier treatment.

Hope drained from her as well as blood. She felt useless and bare and vulnerable. Blue began to carry her down the corridor and she did not even protest, instead attempting to cover up her nakedness feebly with one hand. The second alien followed, staring at her, hard.

"Just wait, you bastards. Just wait." Shepard murmured, before losing consciousness.

* * *

><p>When Shepard woke up she felt too weak to even move. Not that it mattered, as someone had strapped her to the bed. Heavy metal bars were slid across her chest, stomach, and thighs, pinning her to the table.<p>

However, this in itself wasn't her biggest problem, as she found herself being poked and prodded by not one alien, but three.

Two she recognised. Her old friend Blue Face, and the Spikeless one who'd shot her, were stood together glaring in different directions. The third was on her other side and further down, rubbing gel onto her bullet wound, which would have been terrifying if the substance wasn't oddly soothing.

"So you're all helping me now? Makes a change." She said, joking with herself seem as it was either that or panic.

Three heads swivelled in her direction. Spikeless sneered, Blue purred words back towards her, mandibles rising slightly. She was desperate to know what they were saying. Naturally, Shepard had a long list of pressing questions. What did they want with her? Where were the rest of her crew? Why were they doing this?

Why were they doing this?

The aliens had, once again, started to argue amongst each other. It reminded her oddly of Ashley and James bickering, and tears pooled in her eyes as she recalled her beloved crew. She assumed the one by her leg was some sort of medic, as the other two had the decency to look sheepish once he'd started scolding them, avoiding eye contact and looking down at their feet. It was satisfying at first, even if she didn't know what he was shouting at them for. Maybe he wanted her unharmed, or maybe he was mad that they hadn't shot her in the head. Hard to say.

Eventually her smugness turned to distress, Shepard rarely found herself completely helpless. She did not enjoy being stuck on a bed whilst they acted as if she wasn't there. It was disconcerting, and she felt panic trickle down her spine and into her muscles. She was getting claustrophobic, and a sheen of cold sweat dotted her skin as the alien's ignored – or simply didn't notice – the warning signs.

"Taayluuurr?" Blue Face suddenly said, pointing at her.

"What?" She said, angry at how out of breath she sounded.

"Taaayluurr?"

"N-No. Shepard. Shepaaaard." Idiot. Where had he even gotten Taylor from?

All three frowned, clearly not the answer they were hoping for. Not that she cared.

* * *

><p>"Shepaard?" Garrus repeated, struggling with the guttural language. "Do you think that's her name?"<p>

"No. Who cares? Stop talking to it, Garrus." Ira snapped, rolling her eyes. "You don't even have to be here anymore, you're off duty."

That was true, but he didn't quite trust Ira enough to leave her alone with the Taylor, and they both knew it.

"Hm. Interesting development." Doc said, nearly done with the bandages he was wrapping around her thigh. "It seems the Taylor's are smarter than we anticipated. She can certainly understand us, if given enough guidance."

"She can't understand a word we're saying." Ira said, snapping.

"Not what I meant, Private." The doc looked exasperated, and seemed relieved when he'd finally finished fixing Ira's mess, happy to leave them. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I need to check on my other patient. Try not to kill this one." He bowed his head, paused, and then gave the Taylor a small smile.

If the wrinkling of her nose was anything to go by, she wasn't impressed, and the doctor gave up completely after that and left the room. Garrus wondered if smiles meant something else to her, or if she simply couldn't recognize the expression on a turian face.

"Shepaaard?" He tried again, ignoring the scoff behind him. The little thing seemed to light up whenever he said it, bobbing her head up and down and flashing him her blunt teeth. "Shepaaard. I think that's her name, Ira."

"I think you should stop talking to it."

"Gaaarrrus." He spoke out slowly, pointing at his chest. "Garrus."

"Gurrrrusss?" Shepard tried, looking a little startled in response to his excitement, clapping his hands together and bobbing on his feet. "Yes! Yes! Did you hear her, Ira? It's like having a varren that can slowly learn how to talk."

"Gurrus. Ga – Gaarus. Garrus." Shepard continued to test his name out on her pink little tongue. There was definitely more to this species than he'd previously considered, and the black bruises on her neck suddenly consumed him with shame.

"Ugh. I'm sick of this. You're fraternizing with the enemy, Garrus. We shouldn't even be in the room with it." Ira clicked her mandibles and gave Shepard her coldest glare. That same look that had chilled his blood and told him countless times that he was in deep shit. Yet Shepard didn't seem unnerved in the slightest. If anything, Garrus was sure he could read disapproval on her features, forehead creasing into a… a frown?

Shepard was brave. It didn't take much to figure that out.

Ira gave up and turned away. "You shouldn't be calling it anything. It's best not to get too attached. The spectre will be taking it soon."

"Saren?" He said, startled.

"Yeah. You didn't think we were keeping it on a military ship did you?" Ira scoffed, as if unable to believe his idiocy yet still finding it typical. Garrus tried to ignore the anger rising up in his gut. "As soon as that Salarian doctor shows up Saren's taking the Taylors to the citadel with him."

"Why?"

"How am I meant to know? I'm not invited to those private war meetings either. Spirits. I guess his spectre status will get through all that ethical red tape. Who knows what kinda experiments that bug eyed Solus will want to do?"

Garrus felt the blood drain from his face, he looked back down towards Shepard, who pulled her lips into a tiny – exhausted – smile.

"Garrus?"

"Shepard." He murmured.


	6. Chapter 6

"Chair?" Garrus said, pointing at his seat and staring at her with that glaring smile.

"Yes, chair." Shepard all but groaned. She was sick of this game. For hours they had pointed at random objects and told each other what they were called. Only his growls and lilting purrs were more of a challenge for her human tongue to pronounce, more often than not he'd just shake his head at her and move on. Then, just to rub salt into an already bitter wound, Garrus would pronounce her version perfectly. In fact he was incredibly good at the game, only needing her to repeat once or twice, then never forgetting what it was he had learnt.

It was damn annoying losing to an alien, and she sighed, exasperated.

Obviously she had not hid her irritation, as Garrus withdrew his hand to his lap and resolved to sit in uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, it's not your fault." She said, though he could not understand. Shepard knew she should be grateful. He did not have to sit with her, in fact she was sure he was meant to stand outside the door like Ira did. Yet he wandered in and tried to talk to her whenever it was his turn for guard duty, even though conversation was stale to say the least.

He frowned at her, tiny eyes darting to her bruised neck before turning away again. She was sure he'd tried to apologize for that earlier, but whenever they attempted a normal conversation, that didn't involve pointing, it ended in confusion. Several times she'd asked after her crew, only to get 'chair' or 'bed' or 'door' in return. Shepard had also begged for water, acting out drinking and pointing at her neck; Garrus had just looked guilty, and stared at her bruises with a soft murmur.

Damn it. She had a million questions and no way to express them. It was like having a dog who could slowly learn to talk, only the dog was an idiot, and had strapped you to a bed with no chance of escape.

"Food." She begun to try again, chewing to make her point, "water. I'm thirsty." She pointed at her stomach this time, rubbing it then indicating to her mouth.

He stood, mandibles flaring as he touched her bandages gently and purred.

"No, not doctor. Food. Foooood." Shepard said. As if to prove her point, her stomach let out a loud grumble rumbled loudly, and apparently this meant something to Garrus, as the alien began to talk very fast with those growly syllables, nodding his head and leaving in a hurry.

"Huh? No, wait!" Too late, and she heard the door click shut before he hurried off.

She growled and flung back onto her pillow, pouting. "He better not bring that doctor."

* * *

><p>Garrus returned to his post half an hour later. Shepard was still where he'd left her – thank the spirits – slouching against her pillow and staring at the now sealed airduct with yearning desire. In his tow was Ira, still snarling her protests and demanding he take the food back to the kitchens.<p>

He ignored her.

Shepard barely bothered to glare at them as the door whooshed open, but perked up when she noticed the silver tray in his hands. Garrus gave himself a mental pat on the back. So she had been asking for food.

"This is a waste of our resources. Did you even ask the Captain first?" Ira skirted around the bed, arms folded over her chest.

"I did actually. He approved of the idea. We don't want her to starve to death, Ira."

"What did the spectre say?"

He failed to answer, wincing as he remembered Saren's bitter tone. 'why the sudden compassion, Vakarian? Worried the monster will die?'

"Garrus? Did Saren approve?"

He placed the tray on Shepards lap and released her from the shackles holding her chest down. Shepard was glad to be sitting up again, and flashed him her teeth in that odd smile of hers. Meanwhile Ira was sucking through her own, hand inching to her gun.

The turians watched as Shepard first gulped down her mug of water. A trickle ran down her pink cheek and Garrus followed it, ignoring the scathing glare Ira shot his way. Next came the food, and Shepard prodded at the blue substance with a wrinkling of her nose. Clearly not what she was use to, but she dug in happily enough, smacking her lips together at the foreign taste.

"Why are you always in here with it?" Ira said whilst they watched the Taylor eat.

"Ira, not now" he groaned. They'd done nothing but argue for the past two days. He suspected she was two clicks away from challenging him to a fight down at the ring. And he was near mad enough to accept. Garrus was plain sick of having his head bitten off whenever he so much looked at Shepard. "I just think the more we can learn about this species the better."

"Bullshit. You like it."

"Her." He all but growled.

"See?! I have half a mind to report y – " her threat fell short as Shepard started choking, pink face turning a blotchy red while she spluttered and coughed up her food. "Stupid thing can't even chew." Ira smirked.

Garrus hissed in worry, patting Shepard just that little too hard on the back as she clutched at her neck and braced against her leg straps. The tray of food went flying and she strained and struggled, foam forming at the corner of her mouth. "Ira, get the doctor!" He said, horrified.

Ira kept still, laughing.

Shepard continued to struggle, nails leaving red trails in her neck as she cut through skin. Garrus reached out for her, hesitated, then sunk his fingers into the strange wavy strings that formed on her head, surprised at their softness. He tilted her face close to his own. Shepard stared up at him, wide eyed and terrified, with maybe just the smallest hint of anger. She probably thought he'd done this on purpose, and any trust they'd managed to scrape together before was now gone. No matter, he'd work on that later. With a desperate urgency, Garrus stuck his fingers into her mouth and reached down her throat. She felt wet and warm and bit against his fingers, hard. But there was no food to dislodge, and he came to the horrifying conclusion that this was actually an allergic reaction.

"She can't have dextro food… Oh crap. Ira, get Dr. Curae!"

"Since when do you give the –?"

"NOW!"

Ira spun on her heels with a snarl, slamming her fist against the door before she left, either to go collect the doctor or to just sulk in her room. It was hard to say, and Garrus forgot about her quickly. He ripped off the last fastens keeping Shepard's legs pinned down, snapping them with brute force and allowing her to roll onto her side. Immediately she began to vomit, blue sludge pouring from her mouth and onto his shoes with a splatter. Lovely. Garrus bit down his revulsion and rubbed her back, reminding himself that this was his own fault.

They stayed like that a while. Shepard emptying her stomach, Garrus attempting to sooth her with soft coos and gentle touches. Though his efforts were not appreciated; as soon as her shaking had subsided his hand was being swatted away, and she was glaring up at him with two stormy grey eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand as her brow furrowed.

Oh crap.

"Shepard, I didn't realise. Shepard." He said in a gentle tone, as she would not understand any spoken apology. The language barrier was seriously going to get him into trouble. "Chair?" He tried weakly, attempting their game.

Bad move, as with an angry snarl that could rival Ira's, Shepard was on her feet and picking up said chair, flinging it at him.

He ducked, wincing as the heavy object crashed against the door. Shepard was upon him instantly, bashing her fists against his armoured chest. Clearly weak from earlier, otherwise he was sure she'd be landing him with a solid punch that could make a krogan reel.

"I didn't mean to make you ill! I promise. Shepard, stop!" He held onto her wrists, wrestling her back onto the bed and – regretfully - clipping her chest straps into place. Shepard continued to fight anyway, arching her back against the bindings. There was no talking her down, until another cramp left her groaning in pain, clutching her stomach and pressing her face into the pillow, defeated.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shepard." Garrus pushed the sweaty pieces of string from her forehead, sighing with relief when he allowed him to do so. "Dr Solus is a salarian. He'll bring levo-amino food with him. Until then you'll have to stick to water." He said, more to himself than her, sighing.

Shepard was sick twice more before she managed to fall into a fitful sleep. It was as Garrus was cleaning the floor that he realised, Ira had not collected Dr. Curae.

* * *

><p>Another two days passed with Shepard receiving nothing but water. Her rumbling tummy had evolved from a passing annoyance, into a stabbing agony that left her feeling exhausted whenever the spasms occurred. Not to mention the lack of bowel control she now had. Her shits had turned into uncontrollable, stinking runs that left her legs slick and forced the aliens to change the bed sheets each time – much to Ira's disapproval.<p>

That was another thing. Though she did not like Garrus, he was a sight for sore eyes after Ira had been watching her. The female alien was becoming increasingly hostile, and was not above man-handling her whenever they were alone. Fighting back was no use. Once Shepard had twisted her wrist in protest as Ira tried to push her off the bed for fresh sheets, only to be pinned to the floor with a gun pressing into her neck and a lot of snarling in her ear.

No, if she'd learnt one thing it was to not fuck around with Ira. There'd be time enough to shoot her when she eventually escaped, which she would.

If Shepard had a third complaint (and she certainly did) it was the lack of clothes. Though the doctor had covered up her groin - and waist, for some odd reason - with bandages to give her a small shred of decency, no one seemed to care about her chest; and Shepard's nipples were constantly puckered with chill. Breasts obviously meant very little to the aliens though, and at the very least she had a scratchy blanket to hide under, if nothing else.

What was worse was the boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do. Her days consisted of saying random nouns to Garrus, trying not to shit the bed, shitting the bed, and avoiding Ira's glares. Even Garrus was becoming increasingly frustrating. His kind and gentle attitude only confused her, and his growing worry at her quickly deteriorating health was not helpful or wanted. She resented his sympathy, and he would be among the dead when she finally did escape, somehow, someday.

Even now, he was attempting to teach her the word for ceiling, pointing up at the air ducts and repeating some guttural word she could not remember. But his eyes were full of empathy, and his flanging voice cracked in a way that flared her temper.

He quickly noticed her refusal to play again, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence. Shepard tried not to clutch onto her belly, wincing as she wished for a distraction, anything to take her mind off her hunger.

"Shepard?" Garrus asked, and she turned to stare at him. He pointed at her head, then at his horns.

"It's hair." She said, tired. "Hair."

"Hair?"

"Yeah. Here." Without thinking, she pulled a strand off her head and passed it to him. Garrus practically fell off his seat, eyes wide as he stared at her in horror. Maybe it was the equivalent of watching a man pull off a limb, and despite her pain Shepard found herself laughing, shaking her head as it sent a rumble of pain down her front.

"N-No. It doesn't hurt. It's just hair. Look." She pulled off another, waving it gently in front of him as he sat back down. Every so slowly, Garrus reached out and curled one talon around a few red strands. He seemed utterly mesmerized, and Shepard smiled for the first time in days.

Until he tried to tug a chunk out, and she cried out, batting his hand away, moment over. "Ouch! Not so much as once. Jeez. Just one strand at a time. See?" She gave him the two strands still in her hand, and he examined them critically while she laid back down and tried to keep her eyes open. Her stomach was acting up again, and Shepard clenched her butt in fear of embarrassing herself. He obviously noticed her discomfort, as Garrus had directed his acute stare in her direction. She was getting better at reading his expressions, and the unhidden pity she found there nagged at her.

"Stop looking at me like that." She said, finding it therapeutic to talk to him even if he couldn't understand. "I know you tried to poison me. Or maybe it was Ira. One of you anyway, you're the worst guards in history." Her stomach grumbled, and Garrus's taloned hand reached it before her own, rubbing little circles onto her skin. It helped slightly, and so she allowed it. "Just wait. A few days rest and I'll be out of here. I'll find my crew, and maybe that Taylor you all keep barking on about. I'll… I'll…" Shepard sighed, sleep calling to her once again, eyelids turning heavy as Garrus continued his soothing rubs and purred some sentence at her. "Just wait, you're dead Garrus. You're dead."

* * *

><p>It was another hour before Ira was due for her shift, yet the doors whooshed open only moments after Shepard had fallen asleep. Garrus turned to glare, then snapped to attention to find Captain Fidus stood in the door frame, hand leaving Shepard's stomach as if she were fire.<p>

"Captain! I didn't – "

"At ease, Garrus." Fidus marched in, wandering to Shepard's head. Almost immediately his hand reached out to play with her hair, and Garrus bit down on his tongue, hard. "It's not dead, is it?"

"No, sir. The Taylor's sleep for long periods of time. Longer than us, longer than Asari even."

"Hm. I come bearing bad news I'm afraid. It seems our Salarian doctor has been delayed."

"D-Delayed, Captain?" He said, horrified. How long would Shepard have to wait for food now?

"Yes. Something about a plague, on Omega of all places. Kills turians apparently." Fidus scoffed. "I hardly understood what he was going on about to be honest. The man talks fast even for a salarian."

Fidus leaned down, doing what Garrus had been daydreaming about for days, and sniffed Shepard's hair. The intrusion of her personal space made him hot with anger. His hands clenched into fists, and Garrus held them behind his back to keep from tackling his Captain.

"What about her food, sir?" He said through a clenched jaw, failing to keep the temper from his tone, but at least distracting Fidus enough to stand back upright.

"Ah. Well there is some good news on that front. We've got a replacement you see. Just until Solus can arrive. I hear she's very good, if not a little young. The best in her class."

"You're too kind, Captain Fidus." A cheery voice rang out, and they both turned towards the culprit. Saren had joined them by the door way, a nervous Asari at his side. She smiled kindly at them both, dressed head to toe in a white medical attire. Garrus noted how similar her frame was to Shepard's. She'd finally be able to wear clothes. She'd like that.

"Hello. I am Dr. Liara T'Soni. This is the specimen, is it not?" She didn't give them time to answer, slipping past Saren and wandering to the bed. Eyes were wide with wonder, and Liara clasped her hands together in an unhidden excitement. "Oh but shes beautiful! Finally a female. Dr. Solus never told me they could grow red hair too."

"I take it then, you're familiar with the Taylors?" Saren's cold voice cut through her joyous demeanour, and Liara cleared her throat nervously as the Spectre rounded on her.

"Oh, well, yes. I mean – I've read _all_ of Dr. Solus's papers. Though my field of study is actually more cantered towards, urm, protheans. Prothean culture to be exact. I've just come from Knossos in fact. There are the most remarkable prothean ruins there, I could barely tear myself away. Well that's partly true, I mean, I would have been here yesterday, but there was this little issue with the barrier curtains and I accidentally suspended myself –"

"So this is the first Taylor you've even seen face to face?" The spectre cut her off and stepped forward. Garrus was amazed the commotion had not woken Shepard up, and glanced to her with a frown, noting the sweat dotting her forehead. A fever.

"Err, it is. But I, erm." Dr. T'soni was clearly feeling nervous, and glanced to Captain Fidus for moral support, receiving none. He was still staring at Shepard's hair, ignoring them.

"What use are you then, doctor? Why did Solus even bother sending you?"

His cruel words hung heavy in the air, and Liara's face had turned a deep blue, arms stiff at her sides. When she finally spoke, Garrus was impressed to hear her voice ring out firm and confident, glaring up at Saren with a bravery he'd be hard pressed to match.

"Because, Spectre Arterius, I know a great deal more than anyone else on this ship. Dr. Solus would not have sent me if he had no faith in my abilities, I can assure you. Not only that, but I've brought animo-food, suitable clothes, and medical supplies that are not strictly for turians. I also went to great pains and found a language chip that can be applied without an omni-tool. If I go, the Taylor will surely die, if her malnourished state is anything to go by. I give her another week, tops." She raised her chin, eyes narrowing. "If I stay, not only does she live, but we all get to understand what she is saying. I'm sure she has a great deal of secrets you would care to know."

Saren growled low under his breath, not breaking eye contact with Liara for a few more heated moments. Eventually he turned away.

"Fine. Garrus, help Dr. T'Soni insert the language chip. I want the beast ready for interrogations tomorrow morning."


	7. Chapter 7

Inserting the language chip had to be the toughest moment of Garrus's day; no, his entire year. Saying Shepard put up a fight was an understatement. What was usually a two minute injection for a child in a doctor's office turned into a half-hour struggle for the ragtag group.

Ira and Garrus were tasked with holding her down – easier said than done – and he struggled to keep his patience with Shepard, whilst Ira hadn't had any from the beginning. As a result, Ira now sported two bruised eyes and a chipped tooth, whilst his mandibles were scratched bloody by her apparently not-so-blunt nails. Even Liara – who Shepard clearly preferred over them already – hadn't been safe from her grabby hands, and had been pulled roughly by her tentacles. Garrus noted the tears in the asari's eyes as she finally managed to stick the needle in Shepard's neck.

Though they soon forgave Shepard for her violent nature, excited to hear her speak, even Ira lingered with bated breath.

He'd expected her to start talking straight away, to demand answers in a language he could finally understand. Yet she continued to scream at them in her strange tongue, and Liara was forced to explain how the chip needed to study her language first, record down every word she said and analyse each syllable separately before it could be compared with their own dialects.

In other words, the more Shepard talked, the quicker they'd be able to understand her.

Perfect then, that she was currently sulking with them.

"Shepard," Liara said, pushing the tray of asari food closer. "You can eat this. I promise."

It had been two hours since the ordeal, and Garrus had counted only two words leaving her lips – and he was sure they'd been insulting.

"It's no good. You'd think she'd be grateful." Ira was leaning against the wall, picking her teeth with one nail. "Little bitch is lucky shes still alive. Dr Curaes' all but given up on the other one."

Garrus grunted. Sad but true. Liara had only spent a few minutes with the second Taylor, returning to Shepard's prison to explain there was nothing she could do for him until Dr. Mordin arrived.

"Shepard, eat." He insisted. They'd been forced to strap her legs to the bed again, a fact she clearly was not happy with if her furrowed brow was anything to go by. She also didn't trust any food they pressed her way – which, he was reluctant to admit, was probably his fault – and the idea of force feeding her was slowly becoming their only option.

A plan Ira was looking forward to, though he wasn't sure why, forcing the chip into her hadn't exactly been fun. Pushing what she believed was poison into her mouth was, most certainly, a death wish.

"Isn't it odd how familiar she looks?" Liara said, breaking the surly silence and smiling at him from the other side of the bed.

"Familiar how? She looks nothing like us."

"No. Well, her figure I mean. It's so like asari, but then if you look at body scans, their organs are very similar to that of turians. These Taylors have a lot more in common with us than you'd think."

A shame then, he thought, that the turian fleet was preparing for their untimely decease.

He sighed wearily, tired and frustrated. Even the simple woosh of air gained him a glare from Shepard. Any progress they had made on trust was gone for good apparently, and he couldn't help but be a little irritated with her about it. He was the reason she was alive after all. Sure, he was also the reason she was stuck with them, but alive nevertheless.

"I should go. My shift starts in a few hours. I need some rest before then." He decided, rising to his feet and ignoring the way Shepard braced for impact. She made him feel like a monster, and he'd had enough of her company for one day.

Ira dipped her head. "I'll take my post outside then."

"Oh, don't you want to stay in here with me? I thought we could get a few words out of Shepard. I'm sure she'd prefer the female company." Liara said with just the faintest hint of desperation. Garrus couldn't tell if she was scared of being alone with Shepard, or if she really thought Ira would be of any help.

"No thanks. I've had my fill of alien psycho bitch." Ira sneered, flashing a broken tooth before leaving the little room and standing by the door.

Garrus gave Liara a weary smile before he turned down the hall and left them all to it. For the first time in days he was happy to get away from it all and to his room, practically collapsing into his bunk once there. Who knew standing guard could be so exhausting? Shepard made them work for it, purposefully. He did not doubt that she was done with trying to escape either, and with the way she was being treated, he begrudgingly could not blame her.

His thoughts drifted oddly to the captain, recalling how queasy it made him feel watching the man sniff her hair, but then sleep claimed him, and he began to dream of angry red headed aliens.

* * *

><p>The weight on his chest was what woke him up, and Garrus grunted as grabby hands fondled his sensitive waist. The automatic lights were off, meaning that, by the ship's clock at least, it was late into the night.<p>

"Ira?"

She hushed him, tongue flicking out to lick his neck. Her bony hips rubbed against his own, and Garrus felt the first tickle of arousal pull at his stomach. He could not remember the last time they'd tested his reach and her flexibility. For the past few days Ira had acted like she'd rather rip his neck out, and that still seemed like a very real possibility, if the way she was biting at it was any indication.

"Ira, we can't." He flashed a glance to the opposite bunk, then remembered that Vestre was still in the medbay with bandages holding his face together.

They were alone. Yet that didn't sooth his worries.

"We can, if you loosen up a bit. Wheres that Vakarian enthusiasm I enjoy so?" She twirled her fingers around the soft skin at his waist, dug in painfully for a few moments, and then stroked in a gentle rhythm that made him purr.

His head lolled back, hands squeezed her thighs, grinding her plates against him. Despite their clash in personalities, he had missed her warm body at night. Ira was already naked, and began to see to his clothes as well. She didn't bother with his shirt, instead pulling the laces of his trousers and tugging them over his protruding hips. She'd never been one for messing around, and her touches were demanding to say the least. Half his garments were banished to the floor, then Ira worked on tempting his member out from its sheath. Long fingers gentle but confident as they stroked and tickled.

Her touch drove him senseless. Garrus could feel himself giving into temptation, when a flash of red hair invaded his mind, and he winced at the anger he was no doubt about to unleash within Ira.

"What about Shepard?"

"What about it?!" She snapped, just like he'd known she would, fingers digging in painfully hard.

"Ah! I just meant – " Garrus growled, grabbing her hands and holding them away from him. "One of us is meant to be watching her."

"Oh. Don't worry about that." Ira turned to putty on top of him once more, tugging one hand free to rub her fingers against his member, making him hard without much trouble, damn her. "Saren sent me away early, said he'd watch it for a while."

"WHAT?!"

Garrus sat up so suddenly they nearly butted heads, taking Ira by the shoulders and shaking her. "You left them alone with Saren?! The spectre?!"

"Whats the big deal?! Get off!" She snarled and lashed out. The hand that had been so gentle only moments ago slapped him across his face, but he didn't care. He just wanted her off. He needed her gone.

Saren. Liara and Shepard were alone with _Saren_.

Pushing her from his lap, he got to his feet and fondled in the darkness for his uniform. Panic made him clumsy, and Ira watched with fire in her eyes as he struggled to pull his trousers back on.

"If you leave this room Garrus, I – " Her voice cracked, something that surprised him. He only ever saw Ira either angry or horny. She was not the crying type, and he turned to face her in the gloom, not sure if he even trusted the tears welling in her little violet eyes. "If you leave this room we're done. For good. I won't ever speak to you again, I swear. Not. One. Word."

His heart wrenched. He didn't want that, despite everything. It had just been a bad week for them. That was all. A rough patch. Why did she have to give him this ultimatum? Why couldn't she just understand?

"Is that a threat?" He murmured, low voice still seeming too loud.

"No. It's a promise."

Another pause, interrupted only by the ship's humming engines. She'd never looked more beautiful, sat naked on his bed, legs curled by her hip, supporting herself on one hand and watching him with vehemence. For a moment Garrus was almost sure she cared for him, really cared.

But as he waited, the tears did not spill onto her cheeks, and he slowly came to the cold realization that they never would. They probably couldn't. Ira was incapable of compassion, she'd left those under her protection to the mercy of Saren, all so she could reclaim her favourite toy; and his heart turned cold even if he still burned with desire.

"Good bye, Ira."

He turned, and immediately she screamed, flinging the nearest thing she could grab. Fortunately for him, Ira didn't have much reach, and it was only his pillow. The door slid shut before it hit its mark, and Garrus didn't spare a glance back as he ran to Shepard's cupboard of a cell.

The lights above flickered, not helping the fear that already electrified his blood. What Saren wanted with her was anyone's guess, and his imagination ran wild as he zoomed past the medbay, the cafeteria, and down towards the holding cell.

Yet when Garrus rushed through the door all was still.

He tried to control his ragged breathing, Saren was stood by the bed, Liara by the corner, Shepard was right where he'd left her.

"Vakarian, is it time for your shift?" Saren did not manage to keep the disdain from his voice, though he doubted he'd tried "no matter. You may leave. I've got everything under control here."

"Sir." He felt like an idiot, yet his feet refused to turn. Garrus studied Shepard's face, trying to recognize the foreign expressions he'd been practising on reading. She looked afraid. Or maybe that was the wrong word, he doubted Shepard would show a lick of fear even in front of a thresher maw. No, it was more cautious. Her odd little eyebrows were furrowed down, lips pulled tight at the corners, gaze varying between Saren and Liara, who – in contrast – did look terrified, now that he noticed her.

"Dr t'Soni, is everything alright?" He asked, ignoring the spectre's glare.

"O-Of course." She said, glancing to her feet.

"Leave, Vakarian. I'm giving you free time."

He continued to watch Liara. It was barely visible, he might not have noticed at a glance, but her head shook. A tiny tilt either way that sent his blood cold.

He was not leaving.

"It would be disrespectful to my Captain, sir, if I ignored my duties."

The spectre rose to his full height, and the muscles in Shepard's arms bunched in response, eyes remaining narrowed. Her unease rubbed off from him, and Garrus found himself wishing he had a gun.

"I outrank your Captain. If theres anyone you're disrespecting it is _me_." His tone brokered no argument.

"I… can't, sir."

He wasn't sure how he mustered the courage to stand strong and lock eyes with the spectre. There was just something about him that made his skin crawl. It was the wrong thing to do, lawfully; yet morally Garrus knew he'd make this decision again, and a thousand times over if his conscience had any say.

"You… can't?" Saren did not raise his voice, but somehow that made the tension thicker. Liara shrank further into the corner, wringing her hands together.

Shepard's gaze now remained fixed on Saren, face a blank canvas that he could not have read even if she'd been turian. Yet her presence was oddly comforting. He felt safer, somehow, with Shepard in the room. Even if she was strapped to her bed and currently incapable of controlling even her bowel movement.

"Saren," Liara said, voice cracking. "Shepard still can't talk. Maybe if you came back t – "

The suggestion sent the man's temper over the edge, and he cut her off with a snarl, stepping forward and swinging one arm back to strike. Maybe he wanted to slap her, maybe he just wanted to scare her, but Garrus intercepted him anyway, not really thinking of the consequences as they begun to crapple.

Pulling the spectre back proved harder than anticipated; despite his lithe frame, Saren was alarmingly strong, and snarled as he tried to twist away. Elbow flashed back, crunching into Garrus's cheek plate, and during the searing pain he couldn't help but recall the naked woman he'd left in his bed for _this._

"Ugggh!" Saren gained the upper hand with ease, and Garrus was pinned to the wall by his neck without a moment's notice. Liara screamed, Shepard watched with what he assumed was horror, and Saren squeezed.

Squeeze. Squeeze. Wheeze.

The irony was not lost on him, and Garrus might have laughed had he been able to breath. So this is what it had been like for Shepard, choked by a turian. At least his skin wouldn't turn blue and purple as a result, but Ira wasn't here to save him like she had with her.

Wheeze. Wheeze. Squeeze. Wheeze.

"Let go of him!" A shock of blue, and then Saren was being lifted from the air as Liara's palm shot out a singularity. She was clearly a powerful biotic, as crates and medical supplies quivered before being slowly dragged towards the sphere of dark energy. Garrus too felt his feet sliding, and grappled blindly for purchase whilst Saren struggled to reach his gun with the lack of gravity.

Even Shepard's heavy bed creaked along the floor, and she cried out shrilly, hands fumbling against the sheets as she tried to shuffle away; the biotic ability clearly new to her.

"Stop! Stop it! I'll talk!"

Liara gasped, the sphere disappeared, and both turians fell to the floor with grunts.

"I'll talk…" Shepard said again, in perfect turian, tone stronger than he could have believed.

She sounded beautiful.

She was also in big trouble.

"I knew it," Saren grasped the bed sheets with one claw and pulled himself up, eyes dark. "I knew you were lying."

"I never lied," she held her chin high. Shepard had taken charge of the group despite being their prisoner, despite her unfitting gown, skinny appearance, and unwashed state. She was a natural leader, and Garrus no longer felt like the one doing the protecting. "You just had nothing interesting to talk about, you big, stupid, dinosaur."

The insult boiled his temper once more, and Saren latched on to Shepards jaw, this time meeting no resistance as Garrus and Liara watched on – stunned into silence.

"Vakarian," Saren's face was close to Shepard's as he spoke, and the two did not break eye contact.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you want to survive the night, you'll take the Taylor to the Captain's office for her interrogation_. Now."_

Damn him, but he was back to following orders, despite having a faint idea of what these interrogations would involve. And damn her for not talking this entire time. For not letting them know the chip had worked, for keeping him in the dark when he could have prevented this.

Damn.

"Of course… sir."

Saren gave a curt nod and finally released her, turning on his heels and marching out without another word. No doubt to get ready.

The doors tried to close, but was caught on an upturned box from Liara's singularity, thumping repeatedly against the stupid thing whilst the others watched with weary faces.

"That's something." Shepard broke the silence first, much to their surprise, "why do you all call me Taylor? That's _not_ my name."

"Shepard," his tongue felt heavy, in fact everything did, and he slumped into the chair next to her cot before continuing. "He's going to kill us."

"Well," Shepard said, "shit."


End file.
